Song of Silence
by grontaires
Summary: Finnick fears the monsters in the dark silence of District 13, and the impenetrable quiet of an alabaster world. His dreams take him back to the Capitol, and only his screams can awake him. He feels himself drowning until a hand claps his and doesn't let go. That hand, surprisingly enough, belongs to Gale Hawthorn. Rated M for later chapters! M/M


**Song of Silence**

**Disclaimer: No characters are my creation**

Finnick's world was white, a sterile white that made one's nose ache with toxins from imagined bleach. As the smell heightened, so did his perceptions of the walls, each moving closer and closer until he grasped at his throat for fear of asphyxiation. If he had suffocated, his body would have been removed and buried in record time; only a small funeral, if any, would have been held. Finnick had come to accept the way this district was run, but in his heart he despised the order. He missed the ocean, the ever-blue sea of District 4. The water had no regulation The tide rose and fell regardless of the traumas caused by humans. He used to be cogneric to the sea, but his now scarred hands told a different story: Finnick was irrevocably altered by man's endless depravity.

He began to walk down the unbearably white hallway, anticipating a run-in with someone, _anyone_ else, before instinct could seize him, and he would attack this alabaster prison.

"Finnick?" The voice came from behind; he swiveled his head. "Stop clenching your fists like that, you look like an angry walrus."

He grinned slightly as he recognized the figure. "Johanna, what a pleasure."

She smiled wryly. "I'm not sure that word exists here. What's the motto? 'Give me a very detailed schedule or give me death?'"

"They rescued you from the Capitol."

"I s'pose. Weaning me off morphine wasn't too kind, though. Disagree, _Soldier _Odair_?" _Mockery stained her words.

He sighed. "You shouldn't even be here."

"_I _shouldn't be here? Sorry, but doubt 'Angry walk of self pity' is anywhere in your schedule."

"I wanted fresh air," His tired eyes rested on her sneering face, "and a windowless hallway was the next best thing."

She smiled, but her face was clouded. "I know how you feel."

He offered his hand. "Soldier Mason, I believe we have an exactly portioned meal to gratefully consume."

Smirking, she grabbed his arm.

The dining room was vast, and unsurprisingly devoid of color. Finnick eyed his food with distrust. The last meal had been beats in a mystery stew, and the "mystery" happened to taste like dirt and socks.

"You have to eat." Finnick looked into Annie's worried blue eyes and grinned.

"Do not pout at me, Cresta! How could I possibly resist this-" he poked the food warily, "delicious venison?"

"I'm worried about you, Finny. You're wasting away."

"Wasted is exactly what I want to be right now." Johanna put in to little amusement across the table. "Alright! God, no more jokes."

"Maybe you would like to tell him how delicious the food is," Annie intoned pointedly.

Johanna flared her nostrils. "Fine. It's truly fabulous, _Finny. _Really just amazing."

Finnick gagged. Annie threw her hands up in defeat. "Okay, starve. You're both hopeless."

She got up to clear her tray. Finnick watched her leave,a smile playing on his lips. She was his only memento of his true home.

"So, _Finny_. She must be fun in bed."

His attentioned snapped back to the woman across from him, who was laughing.

"How many times do I have to tell you, _we are not together_!"

The people dining adjacent to them looked over quizzically. Raised voices weren't permitted; Finnick lowered his head, fending off their silent chastising.

"Aw, you're red. How cute. Like a baby walrus."

"Johanna, _i'm going to kill you_," he whispered heatedly.

"I dare you to try, walrus."

"You're impossible." He swung his legs to the opposite side of the bench while balancing his tray of hardly-touched meat.

"Such a sore loser, Odair. Go and run back to Annie so she can pat you on the head tell how good a little boy you are."

"Have a lovely night, Johanna," he said with an attempt at her biting sarcasm.

Finnick's footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he wandered to his quarters. The eery silence only highlighted the fact that it was far past the time he was expected to be asleep. He slipped quickly into his room, fearing the wrath of the regulation-obsessed guards.

His room was silent. Everything was silent, so terrifyingly silent. It hurt his mind, this horrible, shrieking, nothingness. He clutched at his ears squeezing his head, attempting to end the horrible, horrible silence. He sank to the ground, tears falling freely, and opened his mouth in a silent scream.

Sometime later, he had stood up from his collapse on the cold marble. He tiptoed to his threadbare bedroom, careful not to wake the monster that had overcame him only hours prior.

_Maybe Annie's not the crazy one. _He laughed a hoarse, bitter laugh that broke the midnight's silence, no longer caring about the monsters hidden in the dark. He lay on his bed, sights from the day reflected in the backs of his eyelids. One looked like a skull.

Finnick laughed again.

In his dream he was walking through a labyrinthine puzzle of rooms, each decorated with the lavish draperies of unending wealth. With a start, Finnick realized he was back in Snow's mansion. He opened his mouth to scream, but a burning sensation choked it back. He stumbled forward, running and running... _He's really quite pretty, isn't he, Snow_... _How much for the week... month... Smile, Finnick, they love you... I- I can't... Your mother, she's dead, maybe you changed your mind..._

And he could feel it, the poison in Snow's eyes; he'd killed her, he'd destroyed everything...

Finally, he stopped running.

"Hello, Finnick." Snow reached out and run a thumb down his lips, Finnick recoiled "Sad to see something this pretty so broken." He almost looked wistful. "But alas, not irreplaceable." Snow smiled. "It's a shame your mother died for nothing. Wasteful even."

Finnick felt as though he was splitting in two, a rupture that started between his eyes and ended down to his toes. He tried again to scream, but was only able to choke out a sickening garbled noise.

"Any last words?" Snow was laughing. "Thought not," he said as his hands clasped tightly around Finnick's neck.

He woke up shrieking in the now-comforting darkness of his living quarters. he clutched at his throat, Snow's hands a fading memory.

No wonder he had a fear of ghosts; his past kept creeping up on him.

A knock sounded on his door, but Finnick was in no mood to leave his warm blanket cocoon. The knocking became more and more persistent until, with a growl, Finnick rolled out of bed.

"I'm coming! For the love of all things holy, just _stop._" He turned the door handle, prepared to be admonished for sleeping past wakeup, but was surprised to find the hallway was unlit.

"Finnick?"

His thoughts turned to the figure swathed in shadows. "Who else could it possibly be?" Weariness now turning to annoyance he asked, "Gale, please tell me you have a good reason for this rude awakening?"

The man opposite him reddened. "I, uh, heard screaming. And, um, wanted to make sure you weren't being, you know," his eyes searched Finnick's questioningly, "killed."

"I assure you, i'm fine." He gestured to his empty living room. "See? Just me and my thoughts."

"So, nightmares, then."

Finnick smiled. "However did you guess."

Gale shook his head, eyes dark. "We all have our demons."

An echoing stomp that could only be the product of angry guards resonated in the hallway. Finnick pulled Gale inside, swearing.

"Well this is just fabulous," Finnick drawled bitterly, then collapsed onto his white couch.

"You weren't even sleeping, you were screaming." Gale retorted, sitting down in the chair across from him.

Finnick looked at his hooded gaze. "You have them too, then. The nightmares."

"I saw my entire district burned to the ground. I would be worried if I _didn't_ have them." His voice sounded worn.

"I wish I dreamed about the arena. All that violence was so simple compared to-" he cut off. "_Other_ things."

Gale looked away. "Are you and that girl Annie, um, together?"

Finnick closed his eyes and laughed, remembering his conversation with Johanna. "It does appear that way, but no. We're just friends." He cocked his head questioningly. "Unlike you and Katniss, I hear."

"Katniss is in love with _Peeta,_ and I've gotten the message seeing that she chose a crazy, murderous man over me."

"Love isn't everything." Finnick looked down pensively. "To love is to be hurt."

Gale smiled slightly. "How optimistic, Odair. Makes me feel worlds better."

"On another note, does it worry you that we both might have insomnia?" Finnick put his arms behind his head.

"Sleep with nightmares is still sleep."

"Not _good_ sleep." He propped his legs up on the coffee table, looking at the empty walls."I hate it here, I really do. It's so quiet and orderly, drives me insane."

"But we're not dead."

Finnick felt Snow's cold hands in a vice around his throat.

"Sometimes I wish I was."

**Feel free to review! :D**


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